


Gay Underwear

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack I guess?, M/M, Sheriarty - Freeform, my shitty humour is on it again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Jim are in love and little Joanna is cute. In other news, Sherlock is kinda heartbroken and I suck at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gay Underwear

„Aw come on Sherlock, you know what kind of underwear is gay, I know what kind of underwear is gay, no need to pretend.  
Sherlock, don’t ignore me.”  
Jim was standing in front of the consulting detective who was currently kneeling on the ground, inspecting something.   
“Stop stalking me, Moriarty.” He murmured.   
“You love me.” He giggled and pulled Sherlock up.   
“Yes, I do, unfortunately.” He smiled. “Now let me continue my work.” Abruptly he kneeled down again.   
“Aw I hoped you’d kiss me.”  
“Are you challenging me, James Moriarty?”  
“Maybe, Sherlock Holmes.”

 

 

As someone knocked at the door, they untangled themselves. They had been watching an old movie (more or less, Jim did his best to distract him) on Jim’s request. He was a sucker for that kind of films, and Sherlock didn’t really mind. The case he investigated earlier was boring. Hoping for an interesting one he tried to stand up, failed, and struggled regaining his balance.  
The consulting detective straightened his clothing. They both liked wearing suits, although Jim preferred Sherlock wearing nothing. His thoughts got carried away and apparently he made a noise, because his lover shhht him.   
He opened the door with an awfully happy “Good afternoon, I am Sherlock Holmes, what can I not do for you?”  
Jim couldn’t see who was there, but when Sherlock shouted “Jim, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He looked confused, but fired a   
“I would have preferred it if you said ‘Jim, you’ve got to be kissing me’.” back.  
“Jim, now is not the time for horrible puns.”

When Jim stood up and stepped closer he noticed how Sherlock was staring in horror at the doormat. He looked down and the eyes of an infant met his.  
“We are not keeping her, Jim.”  
“Aw come on, she’s cute.”  
“You say ‘aw come on’ an awfully lot.”  
“You gotta admit, baby, she is really cute.”  
“She looks like Dumbledore.”  
“And I thought you slept through Harry Potter.”  
“You also think that the washing machine eats your underwear.”  
“My gay underwear, you took it.”  
The baby squealed.   
“IT’S SO FLUFFY I’M GONNA DIE.”, Jim squealed back.   
“I’m not gonna let you die, that’s why we are not keeping her.”  
James grinned “Touché.” And turned his back, the baby in his arms. “We are keeping you.” He whispered under his breath.  
Sherlock smirked. “We are not keeping her.” He said through his teeth.

 

Of course they kept her. Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal and most dangerous man in the world (unless he’s with Sherlock Holmes) usually gets what he wants.   
They named her Joanna. James knew it was all about John Watson, when Sherlock had selected the name, but he went with it.  
The days passed fast. They both had to learn a lot and hardly ever had time for themselves. Most of the time it was amazing. They couldn’t take her for walks, speaking of persons who actually should be dead, but Jim played with her for hours, until she was tired. He talked to her in a silly baby voice, which Sherlock didn’t approve of. He liked it, though, seeing his lover so happy. They bought baby supplies over the internet, even though Jim wanted to insist on visiting IKEA. Joanna slept in the same room as their new parents, except when they were…. Busy.   
Still it was a hard, exhausting time.   
Jim heard Sherlock talking in his sleep, but ever more often he heard him playing the violin when Emma couldn’t sleep.  
One of this nights was worse. At first, she wouldn’t sleep, then she started crying and they had to comfort her.   
But even the worst times end and they ended up standing in the living room, looking in each other’s eyes. “the light behind your eyes” was playing in the background. Jim didn’t know where the sound came from, probably from their neighbour’s apartment.   
Jim took his hands and hummed with the music. “Wouldn’t it be cheesy if we started dancing?” he asked after a while.   
“No. I am not dancing with you.” He replied and let go of his hands and turned him his back.  
“Is it because the last man you danced with was John and then he left you.”  
Sherlock didn’t answer.  
“You’re still bitter about him. Your first true love. Do you think I haven’t noticed?”  
The consulting detective turned around and slammed him against the wall. “Do not mention John Watson again.” He said, heavily breathing.   
“Is it him you think about when you kiss me, Sherlock?” He looked at him challengingly. “I know I’m only a substitute. Because he jumped off the same building as you, two years after you left him?”  
Sherlock didn’t come home this night. He didn’t come home the next night. Jim started worrying. He distracted himself with caring for the one year old Joanna. She cried a lot, like she was noticing the emptiness in 221b Bakerstreet. Neither Mrs. Hudson, peace upon her, nor Sherlock Holmes, or John Watson, inhabited the flat. Only James Moriarty lived there. You couldn’t even call it living. But maybe he just interpreted too much in the illogical sadness of a baby.  
How does a psychopathic consulting criminal deal with a broken heart? Jim wasn’t so sure himself He barely ate, barely used the shower and barely left the apartment. Actually the only reason he got up was to care for Joanna.

After the third night Sherlock didn’t come home he was nervous. He accidently shot one of his men and he drank too much wine.  
He had left Joanna with a babysitter, so he was alone when he was walking through the streets. He had his hands in his pockets and he let his head hang, not watching his step, why would he even care about such a little and insignificant thing.   
He took a few steps and immediately stumbled upon something. He fell down, but someone caught him, pushing him against a wall to support him.   
When James looked up, he looked in Sherlock Holmes’ eyes.   
“Be careful.” He didn’t smile.   
Jim didn’t reply, he couldn’t take his eyes of Sherlock’s lips.   
“You were right.”  
James looked up in fake surprise.   
“I used you to substitute John.”  
“And?”  
“I am sorry.”  
The consulting criminal remained silent for a long time. Then he replied.  
“This calls for a heavy making out session.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you notice any mistakes, please inform me! I'm too lazy to beta and generally too lazy for everything. Thanks for reading!


End file.
